Children of the night time
by satans-sister7
Summary: 19 Years since Fran and Peter escaped the mall, they and Fran's daughter return to the shopping center after the signal of a message reporting a pregnant zombie nearby the site is picked up on their radio; could this be the begining of a new species?
1. Chapter 1

The radio crackled and hissed, occasional words and voices could be heard amongst the chaotic buzzing of the interference. The signal, had been weak for years, though small cities and communities had been set up across the country, safe havens from the living dead, it seemed technology like the majority of the American population, had hardly survived.

"Carrying child... a member of... dead..." Peter looked across to the black box radio, his eyebrows meeting in the centre of his forehead in a frown, intrigued by what he thought he had just heard. He reached over pulling the heavy metal box it towards him; twisting the tuner in an attempt to find a better frequency

"What is it?" Verity said, moving to kneel beside him and the radio, her knee pulled up to her chest and her finger lacing the hardy black boots she wore before venturing out into the wild once called America; "what did you hear?"

"A disturbing message, if I'm correct." He turned the tuner the other way and the voice of an old man came through loud and clear, they sat listening to it silently exchanges glances of both shock and curiosity.

"I repeat a member of the living dead has been sited, 50 miles north west of the base; the subject appears to be with child. We call for our soldiers and free lance hunters to retrieve her and bring her in. A hefty reward will be available to those who can perform this task. We must discover the truth..." Another voice, one of a woman, broke in; she spoke smoothly pronouncing every word with an articulate clarity.

"Are you seriously suggesting that the foetus inside her womb could have survived? I don't need to remind you professor that this is impossible."

"Impossible?" Fran said, appearing in the doorway of the small cottage, "It seems anything can be possible now..." She stepped inside, putting the logs she had collected onto the small fire in the fireplace. Peter had pulled a map from a large chest of drawers that sat in the far corner of the room, and was now calculating the specific location that the elderly scientist had given.

"Wait, that's by the mall!" Peter said standing up. "By God, it would be nice to go back there, get some gear and take the prize into the docs, check out what's going on down at the base." Fran sighed, looking at him, a concerned expression on her face.

"We lost two... friends the last time we were there Peter. Remember that?" Peter shook his head dismissively.

"And it could have been us if we hadn't stopped there." He said his piercing brown eyes staring into hers with conviction; Verity stood up between them. She knew full well of the 'friends' her mother referred to; her father, Steven, had been one of them and the other Roger an ex member of the armed defence like Peter. They'd had made a fortress in an indoor shopping centre back when the 'crisis' have first begun, before she was born. The details of exactly what passed during their stay were never fully given to her but she knew that it had, had fatal results.

"Besides," She interjected "you guys have an advantage over the others who'll be looking for that thing; you know your way round the place we can get the stuff quick, hide from the zombies, spy out the pregnant chick and take her down to the base." Fran now met her daughter's eyes, folding her arms and shaking her greying haired head.

"We? If we do go, you won't be coming, it's too dangerous." Verity sighed in anguish, and moved closer to her mother,

"Mother, most of the zombies are nearly two decades old! They're decomposed and immobile, I know how to handle myself; you brought me up strong."

"And smart" Said Peter butting in, "we could really use you sister. Fran, give the kid a chance, she's been out with me dozens of times, I've seen her in action; she's got more skills then you give her credit for." He said in his 'omniscient' way. Fran turned away from them in frustration and worry.

"I couldn't bear to lose you in the same way and the same place I lost your father. Do you understand!" she paused looking at Peter and Verity in turn and thinking for a moment before realising that she was fighting a loosing battle.

"Fine, let's get some stuff together, that place will be over run." Peter cocked his gun and smirked:

"Good."


	2. Chapter 2

The thud of Fran's, Peter's and Verity's footsteps was soft as their cautious feet stepped across the dry mud ground; they had left the humble hideaway 2 hours previous and were nearly at their destination. The dirt floor came to an end and a tarmac strip lay in front of them, white lines indicated where to park, to walk, rules that once were vital to conform to, but now, pointless. Figures and shadows could be seen passing in front of and moving inside the concrete block building, shuffling, slow creatures living out there instinctual memories. Fran sighed and bit her lip, her eyes welling with tears Peter put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Come on, gotta keep moving." He said soothingly, Fran nodded and followed on after him with Verity not far behind, scoping the area for any stray zombies. They gathered by the side of an abandoned truck; Peter checked his ammunition, Fran recovered her senses and Verity stood on guard. "It hasn't changed, hasn't changed at all." Peter said, his eyes glancing upwards and at the looming building.

"Power's bound to be out though, so we'll need to be quick and get the stuff before nightfall." Verity sighed, rubbing her forehead for a moment before readying her gun again.

"So what's the plan?" Fran said, her eyes constantly scoping the surroundings scanning for danger, fear in her voice. Peter turned to her and smiled,

"Like before, take an empty shop use it as our base, run, run like hell and get what we need, if you come across the zombie we're after, radio in and-"

"We're not splitting up!" Fran said worry in her eyes, "it's not safe." Verity sighed frustrated.

"What choice is there? We can work a lot faster that way... But if you're worried, you can-"

"No, it's not me." Fran said, walking on toward the mall, Verity came after her.

"I can take care of myself, I'm not afraid of dying, or pain, or them; this is all I've ever known, I can handle it." Fran stopped and turned to Verity, looking over her features, her long brown hair pulled back and out of the way, her blue eyes, the strength in her arms.

"I don't care whether you fear death or however tough you think you are; I don't want to see you dead I'm your mother for God sake, so look beyond yourself for a moment." She turned away from Verity and moved on again; Verity swallowed hard and shrugged her back pack onto her shoulders more comfortably, continuing after her mother. Peter followed behind.

"The game has begun." He said, his eyes looking on intensely at the building before him.


	3. Chapter 3

Peter's foot crushed through a weathered skull creating a low cracking noise, they all stopped and made sure that no zombie's had heard. They carried on, reassured of their unknown presence; the coast outside was clear and they slipped inside the mall easily. Inside though movement was obvious, shadows and distant figures could be made out; Peter raised his silenced gun and took one down.

"Look how slow they are. See mom, no problem heh?" Verity said, advancing forward. "Which way? Where first?" She asked, turning to Peter.

"Well, if memory serves, the hardware stores are mainly on the second floor, right fly girl?" he asked Fran, her eyes flicking back and fourth over the mall and out the doors at the car park. She nodded and moved on, firing bullets into heads of distant zombies on the ground floor with them. 

Verity turned, looking at the open doors, she clicked as many as she could shut and blocked the two she couldn't with a blood pressure tester and a display board. Fran pulled the security gauzes down on the shops and Peter 'disposed' of the Zombies nearby. They re-gathered by the bottom of the escalators, and climbed them warily, prepared for whatever they may meet when they reached the top. The area was wide open and empty; they listened but heard nothing. 

"Come on stick to the plan, this one'll do. Make sure it's secure ladies and then we can move out." Fran and Verity nodded in agreement; Fran pulled down the gauze and they all moved into the shop.

It was a record store and broken vinyl covered the floor; they had to tread carefully as a result in order to avoid making too much noise by stepping on the pieces and attracting any unwanted attention. Peter stopped by a rack of records that had managed to survive coming across a familiar song and shaking his head while looking at it. The door behind him that read "staff only" opened slowly and silently and a crooked figure emerged un-noticed. Peter ran his fingers along the edge of the slip and took hold of the black disc inside and pulling it out; he grinned, 

"holy shit." He uttered happily. A hand slammed down on his shoulder and he turned quickly to see a hungry eyed zombie advancing toward him, a bullet pierced through the side of it's head and it fell motionless to the floor.

"You must be loosing your touch in your old age, Pete." Verity said lowering her gun and raising an eyebrow; she moved over to the door where the zombie had appeared from. Peter let out a sigh of relief and returned the record back to its place.

Light flooded the room as the switch clicked on; Verity coughed and covered her nose, trying to protect herself from the overwhelming stench. Inside a writhing zombie in the corner of the room tried to stand, despite its lack of legs. Fran walked in smoothly, brandishing a piece of cracked record and thrusting it into the creature's eye socket. It sunk against the wall and lay still, puss oozing from the wound.

"No point wasting bullets." She said, looking down on the corpse, "this place is clean. We can base ourselves here, no problem." She turned back toward the doorway, looking beyond Verity's shoulder, "Peter!" she called, "are you alright?" He moved to stand behind Verity and gave Fran a reassuring nod.

"I'm going out. Gonna get some stuff. You can stay here, or take out some of those things, either way keep in contact through the radios." He said turning to leave. Verity put her hand on his shoulder.

"You be careful okay? We need you old man." She said jokingly; he looked at her and grinned.

"There's life in the old dog yet." He walked across the shop and slid the security gauze up, ducking beneath it and disappearing into the mall.


	4. Chapter 4

Peter walked along the line of shops with his gun aimed, scoping for any undead pests; he fired off three shots into an approaching herd, the sound of the gun fire from his non silenced gun echoing through the mall. He smashed the butt of his gun into the last zombies face and it slumped to the floor, Peter frowned and crushed it's skull beneath his foot. He puffed on his liquorish cigarette and looked toward the corridor where the door to the hidden stairway was; the memories of the events that had passed nearly two decades ago flooded his mind and he sighed heavily. He knew that it had almost been too much for him to handle before, that he had come so close to quitting and being back was like standing on the edge of a cliff about to jump; 'Fran was right it was this place, it is a prison.' These thoughts swelled in his brain as he approached the door, the boarding that he and Stephen had made was nothing more than its bare bones. He stepped over it and travelled a long the thin corridor by the generator room; before the noise of the machinery would have whirred within the walls and caused a real racket, enough to cover their' activities upstairs, but now it was deathly silent. He reached the bottom of the stairwell and looked up into the darkness; there weren't any windows to let in sunlight and he was alone with his torch and the sickening smell of old rotted death. He knew what he was going to walk into and he shook with anxiety as he stepped slowly onto the bottom step.

Verity looked across at her mother who was staring out through the shop security gauze; the room was silent and Verity fidgeted uncomfortably in her chair. 

"Do you want to get something?" she finally asked, Fran turned frowning.

"You know before we leave? Do you wanna get something, I mean this place is a giant shop right?" Fran stared at her coldly. "Fine just an idea. I'm gonna take some of these anyway" she said gesturing to the records.

"Oh of course, laden yourself down with junk. How intelligent Verity, that wouldn't really compromise your ability to fight or move quickly." She sighed and moved back to look out the gauze. Verity glared at her mother and shoved some records into her bag annoyed.

"They're practically weightless." She mumbled under her breath and threw her bag back over her shoulders. She sighed heavily and pulled her gun out studying it, running her fingers over the metal. Fran turned her head and looked over her shoulder at Verity and rolled her eyes.

"Stop playing with that thing, you're gun crazy, y'know that? Sometimes I think you love your' gun more than anything else."

"Oh don't be ridiculous, I'm not gun crazy, I just like my gun. Calm down, if you keep getting yourself in a state you're gonna become irrational you know that?"

"How dare you speak to me like that? I'm your' mother, you're not mine. Sometimes I despair of you Verity, you don't understand anything and you know nothing about real life and real problems. Irrational. Irrational…"

"Real life? Real life? I've seen life at its grittiest its harshest and I've seen death and it's all I've ever known and I know it better than anyone and d'you know what! They're both cold and empty so why should we care if we live or die huh? They're the exact same, so don't get annoyed over the prospect of me getting myself into trouble or me dying, cos it wouldn't matter would it? You-" the sound of the radio broke in and Peter's voice sounded muffled through the static.

"Fly girl? I'm on the roof and I've spotted her." Fran grabbed the radio from her belt and pulled it up to her mouth, pushing on the button with her slender finger.

"We're on our way up" she let go and looked up at Verity moodily.

"No don't, it's rancid up here. You two don't need to suffer this shit. Get to the pet shop, get one of those cage things, y'know the kind they use to cart dogs around when they're taking 'em on holiday or to the vets and I'll direct you to where that son of a bitch is."

"Sure Pete, we're on it." Verity spoke into her radio picking up her gun and returning the scornful stare at her mother.

Peter stood on the helicopter landing looking down across the car park; a few bumbling figures could be seen scattered across it and one tugging on the mirror of an abandoned car stood out from the others. The enlarged and rounded stomach was unmistakable and a sickening sight to anyone who could conceive the prospect of what it could mean. Peter shook his head and stood back from the ledge, his eyes looking down and over the tarmac of the roof that was littered with bones and rotten corpses. He chocked on the stench and covered his mouth with his hand, then turned his gaze back to the ungodly creature down below.

"God damned."


	5. Chapter 5

"What do they look like these things?" Verity called from inside the stock cupboard of the pet shop; Fran lifted her head from out of the pile of products that must have been thrown together during a raid by looters and called back:

"Plastic boxes, on wheels with a cage door, big enough for a dog to be carried in!" She swept her hair back from her face with a single swipe of her hand and continued rummaging through the pile. 

Inside the other room Verity stood amidst the well stocked shelves with her hands on her hips; she bit her lip and looked up blankly. She'd never seen a dog, except in pictures and didn't actually know how big they or their travel cages would be. She spied a pile of cardboard boxes that came up to waist height and figured that proportionally they'd be about that big and so trod over to them. Using her knife that she kept strapped to her ankle she began to tear the boxes open; the first of these contained a bird cage the second a cat scratch which Verity just stared at, her eyebrows forming a confused frown in the middle of her forehead. Finally she came across an object which fit the description her mother had given.

"Bingo."

Peter had climbed down the ladder from the roof into the storage hold where he and the others had built their home; he stood amidst the chaos staring at the things that still resembled the space of nearly 20 years ago. The T.V. that Steven had sat in front of for hours, staring at the fuzzy screen awaiting the next broadcast, now lay on the floor the glass smashed, mould from the damp growing on its sides. The dinner table had lost two of its' legs and was tilted on its' remaining; a rotting grey corpse lay underneath it. The sofa was torn and down mostly to its wooden frame, dirty stuffing spilled in certain places, brown patches covered the remaining fabric and Peter couldn't tell if it was dirt or old dried blood.

He pushed open the door into the room where Roger had spent his last painful and delirious hours; where Peter had watch the life leave his friend who, even though he hadn't known for very long, was his lifeline; without him being alone with 'fly boy' and 'fly girl' had nearly driven him to insanity. Steven was well intentioned but even Fran had found him insufferable at times and he suspected that Verity didn't believe the fond recognitions of him that she had been told and he'd noticed that she'd shown a keener interest in Roger than Steven. She'd remarked that he sounded like her 'kinda guy' being that he sought thrill in almost all he did, even the grim much like her; and Peter guessed that Verity would have sat well with Roger too. His radio buzzed and he jumped at the sudden sound that broke the silence. 

"Peter we've found one we're heading down to the ground level, we'll wait for your instructions when we get to the door." Fran's voice directed through the little black box; he could tell by her heavy breathing that she was travelling at speed and so, turning sharply and heading out the room, he climbed back up the ladder. The ascension was harder than all those years ago now he was fifty but he was still quite fit, he'd had to be. On the roof he made his way to the ledge again, by now the Zombie they had come for was sitting on the floor enjoying the car mirror it'd successfully separated from the car; she was a fresh zombie and still had some strength; Peter wondered about who she had been, 'had she been planning to get away from it all, give her child a 'safer' life?' He put his radio to his mouth,

"Are you ready?" He said into the receiver

"Let's go." Came the young voice on the other end, "where is it?"

"300 yards from the entrance you can't miss it. There are zombies on either side, slow ones though, let your mother lead, you cover." Fran pulled the travel cage out into the car park, Verity put her back to her mother's and firing three bullets took out the on coming flesh eaters.

"Err, Mom, you never did say how we're gonna get it into this thing, we can't exactly ask it politely." Verity fired another two bullets, hitting the targets both times.

"I'm the bait, just make sure you get behind it, oh and don't destroy 'the specimen' or this whole operation will be pointless."

"What! I don't think-" Verity began to protest but her mother interjected

"Too late!" Fran unlatched the door to the carrier and bounded over to the Zombie. 

"Mom!" Verity shouted starting to reload,

"Don't blow it kid, eyes open damn it eyes open!" Peter's voice shouted over the radio, Verity turned round to see a zombie an arms length from her, she jumped to kick it in the face while pushing another bullet into the gun, the creature fell back on the floor limply; she broke its neck with her foot and pushed in the last bullet, turning to shoot a flesh eater inches from her shoulder. She headed round to come up behind the pregnant zombie.

Peter aimed his gun and fired off a few shoots into the head, neck and mouth of a gang of un-dead ghouls, he could see Fran standing over the female zombie, it was on it's hands and knees crawling toward her, clawing out trying to catch a piece of the fresh meat that was being paraded in front of it. 

Fran smirked enjoying tormenting the foul creature below her, she stepped backwards her heel falling on a broken clump of tarmac, her foot turned on its side and her ankle cracked as she fell back. Her head cracked on the top of the cage and again on the floor, she fell unconscious to the ground; the Zombie advanced. It grabbed hold of her leg and moved to bite the already bleeding ankle; Verity's fingered wrapped around the creatures dirty black hair and she yanked up its' head viciously, it tried to claw at her arm but couldn't rip through the leather jacket. Peter had bounded across the roof and descended the ladder as fast as he could and was making his way down and out of the mall speedily. Verity Pushed the Zombie into the travel cage and closed the door fixing the latch in place and securing it with a padlock she'd taken from one of the hardware stores. Peter crossed the car pack, firing his gun at the approaching zombies until he reached Fran and Verity who now knelt at her mothers' side. Peter stopped in front of them and doubled over trying to catch his breath,

"She's out cold and her ankles broken what do we do?" Verity said looking up at him and aiming her gun past his shoulder at a zombie a few meters behind.

"We'll have to get her back to the house and then head off to the base." He panted, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"No that'll take too long plus the zombies will follow her scent, we don't wanna lead them to our place!" She shot at another two zombies,

"Fine you take your mother back to the house and make sure you aint followed, I'll take the zombie to the base." He breathed in deeply and began to cough.

"Jesus Pete, you're in no state to pull this thing all the way to the base, you take mom and I'll deliver the prize." He stood up straight and tried his best to breathe steadily.

"You can't go there alone, the road is too dangerous and you've never gone alone to the base before, you aint exactly a people person kid." Verity stood up and began to reload her gun.

"Look we don't have a choice, I can handle it okay?" He opened his mouth to speak but Verity put her hand out to stop him by covering his mouth. "Pete I'll be okay, you said yourself I know how to do this stuff, its instinct. Get mom safe for me and then come and meet me at the base. I'll wait for you." Reluctantly he nodded, taking her hand from his mouth and kissing the back of it. Verity bent and kissed her mothers forehead, then taking the handle she pulled the travel carrier forward and began off on her road towards the base and the community of Locus. Peter bent, sliding his hands beneath Fran's petite frame and lifting her up in his arms, he turned in the direction of the cottage where they'd been hiding ever since the copter had, had to land there due to lack of fuel over a decade ago. He looked back over his shoulder at the car park which no longer inhabited any un-dead pests and then at Verity's shrinking shape in the distance.

"Go kid, and don't stop, God damn it don't you dare stop."


	6. Chapter 6

AN- Hello I'm back, I still have no money and no DVD so I just decided to go on with the show! I think this is actually my longest and more narrative chapter yet so, heh what the heck? I am really excited and happy about all the subscribers I seem to be getting and I really don't want to dissapoint so I again apologise for any grammatical or spelling mistakes that may remain after I and (ashamed to admit this) my mother proof read it. Any critiscisms and suggestions are welcome. RnR. Xx S.S. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

The setting sun shone over the tops of the weathered, part destroyed and abandoned houses of what was once a small town detached from the bigger and more industrialized city once populated by thousands of people; back when an old society built on commercialism and money ran it. It was now known as the Community of Locus one of many secure areas across the country where people could exist without having to worry too much about the monsters that fed on human flesh and dwelled beyond the electric fences. It was still partly run by money; but mostly with guns. The rest of the world was unaffected by the 'virus' that destroyed sixty five percent of the American population and fifty percent of Canada's and therefore currency still had its value in these countries and they traded supplies and food with the people that had money. These wealthy few made demands of the survivors for their obedience and services and the people who couldn't provide either, have been forced to find money to exchange by other methods. Peter and Fran had chosen to stay away from this new culture and stayed were they had accidentally landed years ago. It was a small cottage that hadn't been lived in for years prior to the crisis, without electricity or plumbing but they made use of the large pantry to store food and a small brook that ran by the side of the house. Television broadcasts were no longer made and other electrical appliances no longer had much use and the little 'family' of three had lived well in their small hideaway.

The silence of the derelict town was broken by a low rumbling noise made by the wheels of a travel cage, crumbling stone and rubbish beneath them. Verity sighed and wiped the sweat droplets from her brow;

"I forgot this whole journey was uphill…" She said to her self.

The 'cargo' of the cage had settled down after hours moaning, groaning and an occasional snarl over its entrapment; this was a small blessing for the exhausted Verity.

"I sure hope Peter and Mom are doing better than me." She turned her head looking over her shoulder at the sunset; "Come on!" she said gnashing her teeth and willing herself further on up the hill.

--------

Peter pushed the door of the familiar cottage open with his foot; the handle cracked against the wall causing pieces of paint and plaster to fall away. Fran's now conscious but weak body flopped onto the sofa and out of Peters strong arms. Her face was deathly pale and drops of perspiration rolled down her temples and round the line of her face. A moan slipped over her lips and stayed in the musky air of the old room; silence had consumed the little building and it seemed that even the birds recognised the grim atmosphere. Peter bustled about in the adjoining room searching through the equipment and medical supplies, he re-entered the room where Fran lay. Laying down his 'tools' he plucked the cap off a needle and pierced its prick into the foil lid of a morphine vial; sucking the contents into the tube he lay the half empty bottle down and with his free hand lifted Fran's chin:

"Fran, Fran! Look at me." She obeyed and her lids flickered open;

"Look I know you're in a lot of pain and I'm gonna fix that okay?"

She nodded weakly; he pressed the needle into the vain that bulged in her throat, administering the medicine into her bloodstream.

"Now we gotta clean up this wound, that thing had its' grubby fingers in there and we gotta make sure okay?"

There was more than one way of contracting the 'Zombie' virus; most are related to the mixture of the infected's saliva and the victims blood. Biting is the most common and obvious method but the one that was concerning Peter now was this; when a Zombie enjoys the flesh of a victim they often use their hands to strip away meat to feed on, putting their hands near and inside their mouths, leaving behind traces of saliva.

If this saliva is transferred onto an open wound and enters the blood stream then the carrier can contract the 'Zombie' virus. Indeed the captured creature had done just this to Fran's ankle.

Peter's eyebrows bunched together in the middle of his forehead in a frown of deep concentration. He rinsed a piece of cloth in alcohol dabbing at the wound in an effort to rid it of any foreign objects. His rough and manly hands suddenly seemed so nimble doing this delicate work and in such a soft and loving manner. He did love Fran; it was an inevitable thing, after all they were like family and with all the wound patching over the years they probably had so much of each others blood seep through their skin they did actually share the same DNA.

He finished his task and sat back wiping the sweat from his brow with his dirty cuff. He looked down on Fran's sleeping form sprawled on the sofa, her chest rising and falling in a steady motion as she breathed heavily. The injury had knocked her more than it should have, Peter knew this and it was a grave realisation.

--------

Verity had left the village behind her and was now heading through a yellow grassed field that had only a few trees; corpses littered the ground under some of these trees, piled up empty shells of what used to be people and then zombies. The grassland was one side of the perimeter of Locus, after crossing this she had to get passed the electric fence that was manned by guards every 25 feet. Admission was not easily obtained their were passes and codes and at least one of the guards at the gate had to recognise you, but all of this was unnecessary if you're able to slip them a large bundle of greens and keep your eyes down and mouth shut about the little indiscretion.

She stopped suddenly. The zombie in the cage moaned, but it wasn't the only noise Verity could hear breaking through the silence. Something was moving through the fallen leaves, very quietly, very slowly but Verity recognised it for what it was. A person; lifting their feet up and over the debris and then another sound; more crunching more shuffling more people… Or what were once people. She unhooked her fingers from the handle of the travel cage, they were stiff from staying in the same position for such a long time and she stretched them in a pulsing motion as she moved the down her waist and onto her thigh; unhooking the latch of her leather gun-holder slipping it's contents out. She slid her other hand over the metal turning off the safety. The sound was coming closer and she knew its origin exactly now, night hunting had taught her how to use her ears to see in the darkness. A twig cracked under the weight of a foot and she snapped round to meet it firing one bullet straight between the eyes of the advancer. The lifeless and young form slumped backwards onto the ground and for the first time Verity saw her targets clearly.

"Eddy!" Cried the tallest of the small group of well armed men and boys as he threw himself down to cradle the body in his arms; another darker and older member stepped forward.

"Bitch!" He spat at the stunned, frozen Verity. The hand holding the gun fell to her side hanging limply as the unanimated young girl stood staring down at the dead boy, the boy she had just killed.

"13!" Said the older one coming closer to her; Verity felt her head swoon her whole body convulse and the ground slip away as she fainted to the ground. The gun went off again.

--------

Peter turned the dial on the radio trying to get the right frequency for the broadcasts the hub made, the familiar voice of the news reader came through; he spoke of increase in tax, continuing failures at finding a cure, the increase in zombie's approaching the enclosure but nothing of the arrival of the pregnant zombie. He shut the radio off and sighed, Fran moaned as she rolled over and went back to sleep. He slipped a slender, liquorice cigarette between his lips and pulling out his heavy metal lighter flipped back the lid, flicked the ignition and lit the end till it glowed a fiery orange. He sucked until the smoke filled his lungs and then pulled the cigarette away from his mouth, allowing the smoke to billow out.

"Where are you kid, where are you?"


	7. Chapter 7

It was half past four and already the sun was going down. A new routine to Ash's day was watching this change from light to dark or as her preacher father had called it, "the deliverance from knowledge to faith". She recalled his many speeches that drew on the parallel of being lost in the darkness of the night, acting on personal belief of what was within it and the blind faith we must have in God. She smiled to herself. It had always been her intention to stand at his side and spread the word of God and when her time came to become an instrument of the Lord herself, illness had taken him to the Father early and she never mustered the courage to stand alone. She cherished moments like this; moments that reminded her of her father and brought her closer to him through the divide of death.

"Thank you for your blessings lord." She whispered. The moisture of her breath hit the glass of the window and steamed up in an O shape. She smiled. She uncurled her legs from under her and slipped off the window seat moving across the room to where her small radio sat on the side board. She turned the knob until the sound of the announcer came through clearly. More talk of the crisis that swept the country and more pleas for people to gather in the designated refuge places. She switched off the radio. She had, had quite enough babble from men in suits speaking down their noses about things they knew little of.

She decided to put on a record instead and having slipped the plastic disc into place the sound of The Beatles' "Dizzy miss Lizzy" filled the room. She kicked off her slippers and danced barefoot around the room, her brown hair fell loosely over her shoulders as she tossed her head in time with the music. Suddenly, a large cracking sound pulled her out of her euphoric trance, her eyes widened as she stared at the limp body of a crow falling below her window and the crack it had left in the pane from its impact. Spots of red trickled down the glass.

Thuds sounded from the other side of the door and she stepped back surprised, pressing her back against the wall. She turned to look out the window again and at the last of the setting sun. Low moaning followed the thudding, human voices distorted into animal like noises. Her eyes filled with tears of mixed emotion and her childlike smile returned.

"Thank you Lord. I have understood your sign and I come to you now."

She shut her eyes tightly and waited for the inevitable. She heard the wood of the door crack and break, the thud of stumbling flesh, the advancing steps and felt pain rip through her skin and into her blood. She smiled.

**8 months later**

**On the boarder of Locus**

Verity opened her eyes. It was still dark and she was still outside. She could hear a mix of male voices debating vigorously over their predicament. She took a look at the clan who had disrupted her journey. There were 5 of them, two whom were identical twins and in their late twenties, a younger boy who unusually tall for his age and two who about the same age, early twenties, but one had darker hair and was slumped on the floor in agony.

"Oh god, we can't just leave Ed's corpse here with those things! He's better than those things and he belongs in a real grave!" said the youngest, tears streaming down his face, making a track of clean skin through the muck that encrusted it.

"You shut your mouth! There's blood in the air and that thing that girl was carting can smell it and it's making a real racket and soon more of the creatures will be here. We don't have time to lug his body back with us!" said the eldest, pointing a threatening finger at his younger comrade.

"I reckon that thing in there is the zombie those doctors have been looking for. We could probably get a hefty sum for it. I say we take it with us." The first twin said.

Verity's stomach rose into her throat.

"We don't have enough hands to take the gear, that thing and Michelangelo all the way to the gate." argued the second twin.

"Screw Michelangelo, all the red he's pumping out he'll lead them straight to us…" said the eldest.

"You bastard! You ain't leaving me behind!" The man who had confronted Verity lay on the floor clutching his thigh holding the gunshot wound caused by the second discharge of her gun.

"Hey, we ain't got a choice now man. It's either you or us and the 'us', the plural is more important!" The eldest was obviously the recognized leader of the other lads.

"Yeah, let him be the bait for once." The twins said in unison, turning to each other "except this time…"

"The bait bites it, you jerks! You mother fucking jerks!" Michelangelo shouted.

"That's our mother you're talking about and me and my brothers don't take kindly to talk like that." Said the second twin, kneeling down and raising a fist in gesture of a threat. The eldest had lifted his had to break a stop to the argument.

"Shut up a second you guys. Why ain't that zombie making any noise?" The four who were standing, obviously related with their matching ginger hair and freckles, all turned to look where Verity and the travel cage had been. "Shit! You two, look for the girl!" The twins picked up their guns and headed off into the darkness.

"You assholes." Michelangelo said to the two remaining brothers, "Tommy, you don't need to take orders from these jerks. You get out of here. Those things are closing in! Don't get yourself killed for a bounty!" He stretched his hand to the younger brother. "Tom, you've gotta leave Ed behind…"

"You shut your mouth Mickey boy or we might just leave you alive for their taking."

"What do you mean Rob?" Tom asked, loosening his grip on his brother's corpse.

"Well, we don't want him to be eaten alive now do we? I wouldn't wish that on nobody." Rob smirked sinisterly in Michelangelo's direction. From in the dark the sound of the twins' calling erupted, quickly followed by gun fire. "Tom get up! We're getting out of here! Casey! Shannon! Get back here!" Tom scooped up their bags and prepared to leave. The twins came running towards them, guns aimed into the dark behind them.

"Don't leave Ed! We aint got no loot to worry about now!" Tom shouted at the twins while grappling at all the kits in his arms. Casey and Shannon shrugged and took a hold of the two ends of their brother's body and ran off in the direction of the nearest gateway, Tommy following close behind them. Rob turned to face Michelangelo and pulled his gun from its holster and aimed it at his head.

"Ready?" He smirked and licked his lips, Michelangelo gritted his teeth and prepared himself for what was about to happen. Rob turned his gun up and smiled, "See you Mick." and turning on his heels ran in the other direction.

The sound of the approaching 'herd' began to rise in volume. A concoction of shuffling and groaning, getting ever closer to Michelangelo. Out of the darkness, the first undead predator emerged and headed for its meal. Michelangelo tried to stand again to no avail, others were drawing in closer now and he knew there was nothing he could do. A gunshot sounded from somewhere in the dark and the closest zombie slumped to the floor, blood from it head spilling onto the ground. Verity came out from the shadows, pulling the cart behind her and firing her gun at the oncoming monsters. She raced over to Michelangelo and pulled him to his feet with a yell of pain.

"Grin and bare it! It's either that or be dinner!" Verity shouted, struggling with his body weight and the travel cage.

"Well I wouldn't be in this condition if it wasn't for you!" Michelangelo replied, pulling out his gun and providing them with some cover from the oncoming attack.

"How far is it to the gate?" She shouted over the noise.

"About half a mile and thank God these things are slow." he replied and then added. "I'm Michelangelo, by the way."

"Verity."

Peter stirred in his sleep. The static of the radio that he had left on in hope of hearing news of Verity hummed continuously. Fran coughed and awoke Peter from his sleep with a jolt. He moved over to her, dabbing the sweat from her forehead with a cloth and smoothing down her hair. The veins on her throat were bluer than normal and her skin was slightly ashen. He'd seen this before but he didn't want to believe it. He couldn't. He slunk against the sofa and put his head in his hands close to sobbing. How could he let her go? What would there be for him afterwards? How would he muster the strength to carry on living like this? He knew he had to. He owed Verity that.

A soldier paced back and forth across the great metal gate that was one of the four entrances to the Community of Locus, under the control of the billionaire Charles Abraham. A sweeping spot light washed over the landscape that spread away from the small cluster of 'civilization' within the fences. The pool of light fell on the forms of two people dragging a large boxed shape object behind them. The soldier signalled to his comrades within the fencing. They aimed their guns at the two figures.

"Hey, Let us in!" one of them yelled.

"Mick!? Hey guys, its all right! It's Michelangelo!" The soldiers lowered their weapons and opened the gate. The first soldier ran toward Michelangelo and Verity helping to carry him inside. "What's that?" He asked, gesturing to the cage.

"My ticket inside." Verity replied, yanking the cart over the threshold and collapsing against a barrier. The gate sealed again and the other soldiers emerged from their posts, advancing on Verity.

"That thing of importance?" One of them asked with a seedy smile on his brutish face.

"No, not to you anyway." Verity replied, waving her gun at them with a raised eyebrow.

"Okay, okay! We didn't mean any offence, 'ma'am." He said, laughing and returning to his post.

"We gotta get you to a doctor." The first soldier said before setting Michelangelo down.

"Come on. I'll get you access to the Hub." The other said to Verity.

"Just what I had in mind." she replied with a smirk.


	8. Chapter 8

AN- Again sincere apologies for the delay in updates, to make up for it I have made this a longer chapter and have edited the past chapters in order to improve them. Read, review and enjoy.

The inside of 'the hub'was strangely colder than it's exterior and more deathly silent than the endless wasteland that surrounded it too. Its walls were whitewashed and patchy and Verity couldn't figure out what it would have been before it had been converted into what was now known as nothing more than 'the hub' or 'the base'. She had been left standing in what resembled a reception area, although there wasn't anyone manning the desk, while Michelangelo had been carried off to the hospital wing by the soldiers. The creature groaned within its cage and Verity kicked it in a gesture to shut it up and she was surprised to find that it responded with compliance.

"They've started doing that." Came a nasal voice; Verity found herself staring at a short wiry haired doctor who was beaming at her from behind large spectacles, she held back a laugh at how stereotypically geeky he was. In fact he seemed to her something straight out the children's picture books she had when she was young; Peter had found them in an abandoned block of apartments. Both he and Fran had done their best equip Verity with the basic skills; reading, writing etcetera but she knew she was probably below average.

"What do you mean Dr…?"

"Anderson" He stuck out a long fingered hand for Verity to shake; she obliged and took it in her own grubby right. 

"I mean responding… Recognising commands." He pushed his glasses back up his nose and looked at the cage.

"Well that is… Frightening, to say the least." She noticed his interest. "Your bounty I believe." She said referring to the pregnant zombie contained within its' plastic prison. Dr. Anderson knelt down, looking through the metal gauze at the un-dead mother to be. He wrung his hands in anticipation and licked his dry crusted lips.

"What do you want it for? Do you think it's gonna…Give 'birth' or something? Do you think it's actually possible?" she asked; he looked up at her, nervously considering how best to reply.

"Anderson!" Verity and the nerdy doctor turned their heads in the direction of the call and found themselves looking at a trim, towering character with dark rimmed eyes and bushy, black eyebrows that met in the middle of his forehead. He advanced toward them and Anderson counteracted this action by rising quickly to his feet and continuing to wring his hands with a more ferocious fervour. 

"Ah, our prize; I was expecting Peter but your' loveliness compensates my dear." He said; Verity frowned.

"And exactly whose dear am I?" He smirked causing Anderson to squirm on the spot; the tall doctor offered his hand for Verity to shake, she paused before taking it.

"Professor Claude Stone, one of the few genuine, qualified scientists here." On the word qualified he glanced at Anderson coldly. "And you're young Verity; Peter told me you were as beautiful as your mother, ah, but you're more by far." Verity winced, she couldn't quite believe how truly slimy this man was. 

"Peter's on other business, I'm here to settle this deal, so what are you offering Professor?"

"Ten thousand." He answered; Verity held back a gasp; this was a large sum for one 'package' and she knew that this meant that this zombie was important to people in high places.

"I'll take the ten thou, but I want to be involved in this case, I wanted to have access to everything to do with this."

"Why so interested my dear?" he said smoothly.

"Why are _you_ so interested, my dear?" she smiled at him; the hub was as corrupt as the people who owned it and she smelled a rat around this whole thing and she was sick and tired of living in ignorance. The cause for this endless death and un-death was officially still unknown, but she couldn't understand how after almost twenty years they could still know nothing?

"Fine, but you'll have to make yourself useful while you're here; we don't need a free loader on site using our resources for their own gain and nothing more."

"I'm not afraid of a little hard work Professor Stone, I was born into this Godless world don't forget, brought up on the carnage."

"A child of the endless doom and darkness; welcome to the team." He smirked and they re-shook hands, sealing the deal. Stone gestured to Anderson to take the cart away and then offered his arm to Verity; she looked at it sternly. He withdrew and began to walk away.

"Follow me, I'll show you to a room." 

He headed down the corridor she had entered from and into what resembled a dormitory with doors either side of a long corridor that came to a dead end. The doors were mismatched and most likely stolen from abandoned houses; this was clearly the worst supplied area of the facility. Stone came to a halt beside a door marked "13" and knocked on it slowly; it opened and stood behind was a bright eyed, middle aged woman who sighed on seeing Stone.

"I brought you a roommate doctor Grahame; this is Verity consider her your' personal body guard and slave." Stone said with a short chuckle.

"Ever the comedian Claude but who says I want or need one?" She replied pulling glasses from her white coat and slipping them over her ears in order to inspect Verity properly.

"Who says I'm concerned with you do and don't want Grahame?" he turned to Verity; "I and the other scientists on this particular case will be convening in exam room 5 in an hour."

"I came in with another bounty hunter, he was sent to the medical wing; could you direct me to it?"

"Oh I'm sure Doctor Grahame will oblige you, Adieu." He nodded and stalked back along the corridor.

"You'll soon get used to the smarmy decorum of Professor Stone; the rest of us have learned to get by with it." Grahame said, opening the door wider and heading into the room.

"How delightful for me."

Verity entered the dimly lit room, the furniture of which was two beds, a bookshelf, a desk, a large chest and was all very worn and eclectic which suggested that like the doors, it was stolen from some of the many empty homes that the country was now full of. Grahame had begun to clear an assortment of objects off the bed closest to the door and stopped to look up at the stationery Verity.

"I assume from you lack of luggage, minus the weapons your carrying, that you haven't brought any clothes or supplies with you?" She said expectantly.

"Well I hadn't intended on staying." Verity replied.

"Then why are you?" Grahame asked inquisitively Verity stared at her and looked away. "You don't seem like a likely intern, you're far too… Rugged for that;" she smiled kindly now.

"I'm curious;" Verity moved over and sat on the end of the now clear bed, "So doctor do you have a first name?"

"Only one that doesn't suit me, it's Nancy." They both laughed. Grahame had grey, blonde hair that she had allowed to fall loosely around her face and deep hazel eyes that told her age; she was probably extremely attractive in her youth and despite the years and stress since she still held some beauty. "I'll get you clothes and makeup if you like?" 

"Thanks, and if there's anything I can do to help you, just ask…" Verity's eyes fell upon a radio communicator; "Could I borrow that?"

Peter sat staring out into the darkness that surrounded the little cottage; he puffed out a cloud of smoke and let it billow about his face. Fran had sunk into a deep sleep and hadn't stirred for hours. The silence seemed endless and the worry in Peter had grown; he moved from the window and sat by the small log fire he had built when the sun had still been up; he threw the nub of his cigarette into the flames. The static on the radio rose and then cleared.

"Peter? Mom?" sounded Verity's voice from the radio, Peter snatched up the receiver.

"Verity, Kid where are you?" He replied.

"I'm at the hub, I'm going to stick around for a while and find out what's going on. How's mom?" Peter paused and glanced at the still asleep Fran and then closed his eyes.

"How long are you gonna be there?" he said changing the subject.

"I don't know… the lines weak…"

"I'll try and meet you in locus in the next few days… Verity?" The static buzz peaked and went back to its dull whirr leaving Peter's question unanswered; he sighed replacing the receiver and returning the radio to its original position. He moved to where Fran lay on what was now her sickbed and laid the back of his palm on her forehead; the fever seemed to be dissipating, maybe Peter's initial fears weren't correct. Perhaps Fran had been unwell prior to her fall and the worst of it had only peaked under her duress… Perhaps.

Peter took in a sharp breath and coughed heavily, the rasping sound echoing out into the darkness of the room. Too much soot from the fire, too much smoking in his anxiousness and too much exhilaration on his aging body in their exploits earlier. He let himself sink into the large arm chair by the fire and lent his head on his hand; if only he could get some sleep and then tomorrow he could be himself again for Fran and for Verity. 

Verity pushed Doctor Grahame's radio away in frustration with a loud sigh; she hadn't made out his last message to her and she didn't know when the next time she would hear from him would be. Grahame smiled sympathetically and stroked the back of Verity's head, twisting her finger tips around the roots of her hair. Verity rose an eyebrow at the gesture.

"So uh, the medical wing where is it? I think I should check on… My friend." Verity said standing up and stepping back slightly.

"Oh yes, of course." She rummaged through some of her papers on her desk and pulled out a tea stained map of the base; she pointed out the medical ward and then traced the route from where they were to it with her finger. "You should find it easily; I assume you'll go straight to the exam room so I'll see you there." Verity took the map from her with a thankful smile.

While Grahame had been talking it occurred to Verity that she'd heard her voice before and she realised it was the female voice from the radio broadcast they had picked up earlier in the day.

"You were the female doctor from the appeal on the radio weren't you?" Verity asked; Grahame smiled happy that Verity had recognised her voice.

"Yes, I'm guilty on that count." She bit her lip and continued to beam.

"So you think this thing is a dud then?" Verity asked, shoving the map into her back pocket.

"Nothing is certain, but I have my doubts. We'll soon find out wont we?" She chuckled and Verity nodded uncomfortably.

"Well I'd better head off or I'll be late" She said smiling half heartedly and turning on her heels heading out of the room. 


	9. Chapter 9

**AN- I don't know how long it's been since my last post, I apologise anyway if you think it was too long, I'm a lazy ass and I have no real excuse ********. If anyone has any suggestions or criticisms etc express them freely please and I'll see what I can do. I hope you enjoy this next instalment R+R.**

**S.S. x**

--

The medical wing stunk of death and decay; the staff there, were obviously not concerned with cleanliness, which was unsurprising when the number of casualties they had to deal with was compared to their few numbers. People feared working with the sick or dying, afraid of contracting the virus through unfortunate contamination or improper disposal of the dead. Verity half expected to feel the sludge of blood and the crack of carcasses beneath her feet the smell was so rancid in certain areas. She passed an old woman who wore rubber gloves and a scarf over her mouth and nose who attempted to lug a rolled brown blanket that contained a corpse ready for disposal on her own; something was very sickening about the whole scene, very wrong. Verity decided to delay her journey and aid the nurse.

"Oh thank you." The old woman said as Verity grabbed a corner of the blanket. "We're so overstretched at nights, that's when they get the 'jeebies' most and no one will come to help." She chuckled.

"Well lucky for you I don't get the 'jeebies' easy," Verity said, smiling kindly.

"That's not the way I saw it" said a voice butting in; Verity turned to see Michelangelo leaning on a wall behind them, his thigh was bandaged and a crutch was tucked under his arm.

"You shouldn't be out of bed." The nurse said wagging a finger at him. He smirked and rose an eyebrow

"Don't you mean chair?" He cupped the back of his hand to the side of his mouth toward Verity, "they didn't actually give me a bed; shoddy service you see?"

"Don't be so ungrateful, I could have you kicked you out on your rump." The nurse said, turning and tapping a pin into a dial beside the large metal door that lead to the furnace.

"Or shot me in the leg." He said glancing at Verity again.

"Shut that smart mouth of yours or I'll shut it permanently" Verity said, the anger bubbling within her, she wasn't impressed by his performance and his off the cuff referral to the incident that had occurred earlier in the night. The nurse glanced at the pair of them and shook her head before returning back to the task at hand.

"What's the matter? Don't like that I revealed your true character?" Michelangelo asked in a patronising tone; she glared harder at him but he didn't heed it and limped closer to her. "That I'm tearing down your tough exterior and showing the coward that you are? The itchy triggered child?" his smirk grew to match his attitude.

"You enjoy making jokes out of the death of your friends, of a boy?" She said letting the blanket and body drop to the floor; he made no reply. "Cos if you find death so funny I can make a whole lot of sport out of you, and no 'trigger's needed" she pulled out a knife from her belt strap and brandished it.

"Could the two of you kids save this till later?" The nurse said placing a hand on Verity's wrist in a gesture to put the blade down; Verity complied and allowed the anger to subside.

Michelangelo paused, looking at her intently before nodding and smiling; he leant down and dragged the body closer to the furnace. The three of them pushed it in the rest of the way and watched it slip down the shoot. The smell of burnt flesh was overwhelming, but familiar to all of them. The door slammed shut and the nurse bowed low in a gesture of thank you before trotting off to find her next chore. Michelangelo leaned against the wall, relieving the pressure on his wounded leg; he was staring at Verity smugly.

"What the hell are you smiling at?" She asked defensively,

"Just feeling safe in the knowledge that I offended you;" he stuck his thumb in his mouth and bit down on the nail. She sighed and rolled her eyes at him before turning to leave. "Going so soon?"

"There nothing to keep me here." She replied still moving away.

"It's just that I assume you didn't come down here just to help aged medical workers." She stopped and looked at him, "I thought perhaps you may have come to apologise for shooting me"

It was true that this had been Verity's intention, but after their exchanging of harsh words she didn't feel so inclined to care.

"I saved your life, isn't that more than enough compensation?" she folded her arms indignantly, "Like the nurse said, I could have left you out there on your 'rump'."

"Well as I remember it was your fault that I was unable to remove my own 'rump' and I never said I wanted compensation, I said I wanted an apology." He moved closer to her again, now standing up to practically his full height he stood several inches taller than Verity.

"If we're going to be pedantic about it, you said you expected one actually." She turned on her heels and headed away from the medical wing.

"Off to check on your freak show, are you?" He called after her; she sighed and stopped again. "I was right about the zombie you were carting about wasn't I? It's the one they were after: the pregnant one." He said catching up.

"-You? I should've known those other guys were too stupid to have figured that out; so I guess that also means you guys were stalking me rather than just hanging out in the kill zone?" She now smiled smugly at him, "so that would also mean you were looking to rob me and I was well within my rights to shoot you and so it was in fact your fault that you found yourself in that predicament." She raised an eyebrow and grinned victoriously.

He paused a moment before answering; "everything's fair game; you should know that. So what do they want it for?" he flicked his dark hair back in a casual way; something was very infuriating about his uncaring attitude to Verity, and she wondered if this was how she seemed to her mother.

"I'm not sure yet, but why should I tell you anyway?" she folded her arms across her chest.

"'Cos I heard how much capital you got for that thing, and it would be unfortunate if it got out and some of those ruthless thugs tried to take it from you on your way home."

"Are you threatening me?" Verity said putting her hands on her hips.

"No I'm in no condition to threaten you" he gestured to his wound, "I'm just looking for a reason not to tell anyone who may want to take advantage of you."

"Screw you, looks to me I got by just fine last time; so I'll just keep all the money thanks."

"I don't want the money." He said scratching his chin.

"What? Then what do you want?" she frowned at him, money was everything to people in locus, who was he trying to kid?

"Knowledge is everything." He pressed his lips together and looked hard at Verity before continuing, "you said 'yet' so I assume you will know, does that mean you're sticking around to find out?"

She sighed, "Yes it does."

He smiled "Can I tag along then?"

"What? Why would I want you to tag along?"

"Oh I don't know, I am rather cute," He smirked and attempted to look sweet and innocent. Verity laughed and rolled her eyes; she turned and walked away.

"I'll see you soon then?" he called after her, Verity kept on walking.

Peter stirred from sleep to find the room dark and empty. The front door was open and the cold wind was blowing through the whole house; Fran was gone. Peter jumped up from the arm chair and to the bottom of the stairs, he called up to see if Fran was there but there came no reply. He turned and ran out onto the front porch; he stared out across the fields and at the vast, dark emptiness. He called out again but once again there came no reply except his own cries echoing back. Why would Fran just run off? Had she turned and gone off to find food? If so why hadn't she attacked Peter who slept a foot away from her? Peter felt alone and powerless; He went back inside, collected his 44' and decided to brave the darkness and look for Fran.

He bolted the front door behind him and stepped off the front porch; he was shivering but it wasn't due to the strong wind that whipped about him. How could he have slept through her leaving? How could she have gotten so far before he had noticed?

"You're getting old, slow… Don't let her down now" he said to himself, zipping his blue jump suit, which he hadn't changed out of since getting back, up to the neck. The gun in its holster slapped against his thigh as he soldiered forward.


End file.
